


Indulge in Good Habits

by HumsHappily



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft-centric, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumsHappily/pseuds/HumsHappily
Summary: Greg comforts Mycroft after a long day. It’s what you do when you love someone.





	Indulge in Good Habits

“You’re home,” Greg said softly from the hall, barefoot with hair mussed from sleep.

Mycroft turned his head and gave a tired nod. “I am.”

“You get him?” Greg asked, coming into the kitchen and sitting down beside him at the table, keeping the lights off. He reached out, cradling Mycroft’s hand with his own.

“I did.” Mycroft carefully laid his head down on the table, pressing his temple to the cool wood. “It wasn’t..what I had hoped.”

“Never is.” Greg ran his thumb over Mycroft’s knuckles. “But you stopped a war, today. Stopped some deaths, stopped a bombing. It’s not an easy job, but you can do it, My.”

“Do you find with your job, that it grows easier with time? When you make an error?”

“No. But I think that’s a good thing.” Greg leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Come with me,” he said quietly, standing up. Mycroft obeyed, letting Greg lead him from the kitchen and up the stairs to their bed.

Greg sat him on the edge. “I think you should take tomorrow off. Or at least a half day,” he said, reaching for Mycroft’s suit jacket, slipping the thick wool from his shoulders. He frowned as he realized it was damp. “You sat on the patio for a bit, didn’t you?” he asked.

Mycroft nodded. “I decided that tonight was a night to indulge my nicotine habit.”

Greg leaned in and kissed him. “Next time, stay out of the rain.”

“It was only misting. Barely noticable.”

Greg smiled sadly. “Only because you were so caught up on what happened today.”

“Perhaps.”

“Take tomorrow off,” Greg kissed him again. “Indulge in some better habits. You deserve some rest. ”

“For you, anything, Gregory.” Mycroft watched Greg’s hands as they deftly undid the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off then moving to his trousers.

“You cold?” Greg asked, placing his palm over Mycroft’s heart for a moment.

“A bit.”

“I’ll go run a shower then.” Greg kissed him once more, smiling as Mycroft kissed back this time, weaving his fingers though Greg’s.

“I appreciate you more than you know, Gregory.”

“Is his very posh way of saying I love you,” Greg said, stepping into the ensuite. He started up the shower just as there was a rather loud roll of thunder. “Only misting, hmm?” he asked, coming back out.

“When I was out there, yes.” Mycroft stood, brushing his hand against Greg’s hip as he went toward the bathroom. Greg smiled, and leaned down to pick up his clothes, putting them away in the hamper, and hanging the jacket up to go to the dry cleaners. As a second thought, he got Mycroft’s robe from the bathroom, hanging it over the radiator.

He tidied up a bit more, turning off the overhead light and turning on Mycroft’s small reading lamp, plugging in both their phones on his side of the bed. He heard the shower turn off, and picked up the robe, stepping into the bathroom.

Mycroft gave him a smile, toweling off his hair before he stepped over, and let Greg slip the robe on. “Thank you, Gregory.”

“Sometimes you just gotta let someone take care of you,” Greg murmured, hugging him from behind, arms wrapped around Mycroft’s chest. “You take care of so many people, My. You can’t keep thinking that you don’t deserve some time too.”

Mycroft lifted his hand, kissing his knuckles. “To bed, my love,” he murmured. 

Greg kissed the back of his neck. “Course.”  He let Mycroft go, leading him back into the bedroom, and climbing under the covers. Mycroft pulled on a set of silken pajamas, and Greg smiled, looking at the tiny umbrellas printed over the fabric. “I adore those.”

“I’m aware.” Mycroft gave him a small smile back, and then climbed into bed, resting his head on Greg’s chest.

“Light on tonight?” Greg asked, running his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, combing it back.

Mycroft nodded. “If you please,” he said softly.

“Course. Night, love.” Greg leaned down and kissed him, then tugged the blanket up over them. Mycroft fell asleep almost instantly, and Greg waited a bit, fiddling on his phone to be sure that there wouldn’t be any nightmares. Eventually, though, he put it aside, and closed his eyes.

**

The next morning, Mycroft was still sleeping as Greg slipped from the bed, padding down to the kitchen. He shook his head at the window, seeing the rain bucketing down. “Garden’s going to flood,” he muttered, flipping on the kettle and going to the cupboards with his mind on breakfast.

A bit later, the rain had slowed, and the kitchen air was warm and heavy with the smell of cinnamon. Greg rolled his eyes as he heard a mournful meow, and he looked down at the cat twining her way around his ankles where he sat at the table with his coffee. “See you finally decided to show up. Did you smell food?”

“Of course she did.”

Greg looked up and smiled at Mycroft. “Morning, love. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed. I made cinnamon bread.”

Mycroft came over and kissed him gently. “I appreciate it.” He poured himself some coffee and joined Greg at the table, pursing his lips as he saw the newspaper had gotten damp. “This weather.”

“Yeah.” Greg took a sip of his coffee, then stood, going over to the pantry to feed the cat. “How you feeling?”

“Remarkably better after some caretaking and a good night’s rest.” Mycroft watched Greg pour out the kibble, then go over to the oven as the timer dinged. “Have I told you lately how much you are appreciated?”

“I think I remember hearing something like that,” Greg smiled, slipping on oven mitts, patterned with umbrellas. He carefully removed the pan, setting it on the stove. “I put soup in the cooker too. Potato leek for dinner.”

“Sounds delicious. If you don’t mind giving up control of the kitchen, I will attempt a curry for lunch. Today seems to be a day for warm heavy meals.”

“You got that right.” Greg chuckled, slicing them both a bit of the bread, bringing it and the butter over to the table. He went back and uncovered a pan on the stove, dishing up some bacon as well, bringing it and a bowl of fruit over to the table. “Here. Breakfast of champions.”

Mycroft smiled, and reached out, tugging him down for a kiss. “I adore you, Gregory Lestrade. I love you in ways I cannot express.”

Greg smiled. “Can I tell you something, without you apologizing for being home late yesterday?” he asked.

“Certainly, though I may still feel guilty for making you wait on me.”

“You had important things to do. Never feel guilty for doing your job and keeping us safe. “Greg reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet bag. “Yesterday was ten years since you first kidnapped me. I figured it out about a month ago. And I was going to give you this.”

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, opening the bag. “ _Gregory,_ ” he said, voice catching.

“I know. You never thought you’d marry, I never thought I’d marry again.” Greg carefully knelt down. “But what do you say? Make it even more official? Marry me?”

Tipping the ring out onto his palm, Mycroft fingered it. “You have a habit of making little gestures that mean far more than any large one ever could.”

“Not the size, it’s how you do it,” Greg joked nervously. “So…?”

“And I believe my answer here should be ‘I do’,” Mycroft said, leaning down and kissing him. “I would very much like to marry you.” He pressed the ring into Greg’s palm, and Greg smiled, slipping it onto his finger.

“Love you.” Greg murmured. “I know it’s hard. But you’re not alone.”

Mycroft nodded, cupping his face for a long moment. “It is hard. But I am not. You keep me on a path that I would find very hard to follow otherwise.”

Greg shrugged, one shoulder going up. “I gotta. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to marry my best friend. A very scary best friend sometimes, but still.” He smiled teasingly, running his hands up Mycroft’s arms.

“Scary is that you’re letting your cooking go cold,” Mycroft replied, kissing his temple. “Come. Eat. Tell me how your day was yesterday.”

Greg stood, taking a seat at the table. “My day was pretty good. But this one is better so far.” He smiled. “Let's make this a habit.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, find me [here](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.  
> Any notification of errors are accepted with gratefulness that knows no bounds.  
> Kudos, comments, and your happy (pained) flailing are accepted with glee. I hope you enjoyed!  
> 


End file.
